


Won't You Take a Breath and Dive In Deep (I Came Here So You'd Come For Me)

by elletromil



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wrongly Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry Hart wakes up in Kingsman infirmary, a Knighted Eggsy at his side, he believes that everything turned out alright in the end and that they have all the time in the world to discuss the feelings that are between them.</p><p>He's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Take a Breath and Dive In Deep (I Came Here So You'd Come For Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missbecky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/gifts).



Harry wakes up, but doesn’t open his eyes. In fact, no one should know he is conscious right now and this is exactly how he wants it.

The last thing he remembers is a gunshot followed by tremendous pain in his head before sweet darkness engulfed him. Considering the woozy feeling he knows from experience is him being heavily drugged, he thinks it’s safe to assume he’s currently in an infirmary or hospital of some sort, but he would have to open his eyes to know if he is in the care of friendly hands or if he’s been captured by any of his and Kingsman's enemies. It’s an action he doesn’t want to undertake now, not when he hasn’t taken stock of the state he is in. He’s fought while drugged many times before and he knows can do it again, but it’s hard to evaluate his injuries with the numbness in his limbs.

He takes some deep breaths in case any smell will give him an indication of where he is, but the only smell assailing his nose is the one of the antiseptic. At least he can surmise he’s somewhere clean and with a modicum of budget, but that’s not a reassuring thought if he’s not with allies.

His heartbeat never changing for a second, he tries to wiggle his two big toes once each, at an interval of five minutes between the movement as to not attract any unwanted attention. He has no problem and feels no discomfort, so his legs must be fine and most of his back too. He then tries to raise his hands from the mattress by a scant millimeter each and it’s only years of training that stops him from making a face when he feels something pull in his right shoulder. He vaguely remembers being stabbed by a knife and can only hope that the frenzy of violence he is starting to recall surrounding the stabbing didn’t worsen his injury. At least, even if it’s hard to correctly judge without knowing the exact dosage of the drugs he’s been given, he thinks the wound shouldn’t hinder him if he has to escape wherever he is.

It’s a bit more concerning when he finds he cannot raise his left hand. It’s as if there is a weight resting on top of it and he doesn’t want to look now if there is really something there or if it’s some kind of injury he sustained. He cannot remember anything happening that would be consistent with what he is feeling, but the details are still mostly fuzzy. And if he is in enemy hands, who knows what they might have done to him.

Finally, he opens his eyes slowly, not enough for anyone to notice, but just enough for the harsh artificial light to filter through.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes all the way to know there is something wrong with his sight. Hopefully it has more to do with the bandage he can now feel wrapped around his head than any damage to his eyes.

Hearing nothing that would indicate he’s attracted any attention to himself, he dares opening his eyes all the way. It seems he might have been right about the bandage being the cause of any trouble with his vision, since his left eye is half covered by it. Fortunately after closing his right one, except from a bit a blurriness, he can ascertain there is no real problem with it.

Now that he knows he could probably fight his way out of wherever he is if he needs to, he starts taking note of his surroundings and feels only relief at the familiar sight of Kingsman infirmary.

Reassured that he’s safe, Harry looks down at what was weighing his hand down and cannot fight his fond smile when he realises that it’s only Eggsy’s head, the boy completely dead to the world.

It reminds him of his last coma, not that he ever woke up while Eggsy was in the room. However, after an offhanded comment from Merlin about how the boy had been hard to pry him away from his side during his scant few free hours without training, Harry had not resisted the curious impulse to hack into the infirmary feed and see for himself.

Most of the time, Eggsy had only been talking to an unconscious Harry about whatever the recruits had been doing since his last visit, but sometimes the exhaustion of such an intensive training program would get the best out of him and he would fall asleep with his head on top of Harry’s bed.

He remembers feeling a bit disappointed never to have woken up during those times, not used to having anyone caring and worrying about him so much. Merlin is a great friend of course, his oldest and dearest one, but he also is far too busy with running basically all of Kingsman’s operations to come sit down with Harry when there is nothing he can do to help him.

Noticing the suit Eggsy is wearing and knowing, that somehow, without his intervention, Eggsy has still made it to Knighthood, he’s overcome with a surge of pride for his protégé. To know that the potential he’s seen in him all those months ago will finally find an outlet is satisfying. Not only because he feels like he can finally put Lee’s ghost to rest, but because Eggsy has so much to offer it would have been a shame to let it all go to waste.

He ignores the painful twinge in his shoulders at his action in favor of slowly carding the fingers of his free hand through Eggsy’s hair, the gesture heavy with an affection Harry had not let himself dwell upon when the boy was only still a recruit.

He can feel the exact moment Eggsy starts stirring from his sleep, his body tensing up while he tries to understand what has woken him up from his sleep. He sits up abruptly, Harry’s hand falling on his lap, and he gasps in surprise at seeing him conscious.

“Harry! You’re awake!” He opens and closes his mouth a few times, at a loss of what to say after having stated the obvious. Harry would help him out, but he knows from experience that if he tries to speak now, he’ll probably only manage some grunts, if he doesn’t suffer from a coughing fit straight away.

Finally realising there is no medical personnel around them and that no one seems to be coming, Eggsy reaches for the call button to press it himself.

“Someone should be here soon, shit, Harry do you need anything?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, seeming to have shaken himself out of the shock that waking up to a very conscious Harry has given him, and gets up to fetch some ice for the other man to suck on.

Before Harry is confident enough in his voice to thank him, the room is being invaded by doctors and nurses, followed by a very relieved looking Merlin.

Eggsy seems reluctant to leave his side, but everyone in the room knows it’s best to be out of the way and let the medical team do their thing, so Harry is not surprise to see him retreat to the same corner as Merlin.

Harry answers every question, voice still hoarse from misuse, and does everything they ask of him without complaints, knowing there is no use being difficult when he still has no clue about his general condition besides his own observations. He’ll keep that for when he’s tired of being kept in the infirmary so that they send him home for bed rest lest he drive them all crazy.

He loses track of how long the process takes and it’s only sheer stubbornness that makes him stay awake all the while. People wouldn’t think it, but one very rarely wakes up from a coma well rested. Still, nurses and doctors slowly start leaving the room, leaving behind only the head nurse, Gaius, to tell them about Harry's current condition. It would seem strange that a nurse would be the one with that responsibility, but the man was the oldest member of the medical staff and the only one all Knights truly respected with a healthy dose of fear.

“All in all, your condition is more than satisfactory. You’ll need some physical therapy to make sure that knife in the back didn’t cause unseen damage. Besides that, our biggest worry was your eye, which seems more than fine, and your cognitive abilities. The bullet might have only grazed you, but you did hit your head pretty hard on that pavement. Still, so far there is no cause for worry. You’ll probably be subject to migraines for a while once we wean you off the good drugs, however.”

Harry nods in understanding and Gaius must know how exhausted he feels right now, because he helps him lie down onto the bed again and says something to Eggsy about being allowed to stay only as long as he doesn’t bother him.

Harry fights off sleep just long enough to see Gaius and Merlin leave the room together, probably so that Merlin can be updated on all the details on his condition, and for Eggsy to sit down again on the chair he had previously vacated.

However, right before he falls asleep, he feels a warm hand settled on top of his and his last conscious action is to link his fingers with his boy’s.

***

Eggsy is still at his side the next time he wakes up, but this time around, he’s typing something on his tablet, probably a report of some kind if Harry is to hazard a guess based on the frown of mixed concentration and boredom on the boy’s face. He doesn’t realise Harry is conscious again until the man clears his throat and he would feel more guilty for making him startle in surprise if not for the blinding smile Eggsy bestows on him right before he starts fussing around him.

There is now a pitcher of water and a glass on the small side table besides the bed so that Eggsy doesn’t need to go to the other end of the room this time, even though he does get up so that he can help Harry into a comfortable sitting position.

“Gaius just came for his round not ten minutes ago, but I can call him again if you need me to,” Eggsy offers hovering near him and Harry shakes his head, otherwise occupied with sucking the water through a convenient straw. They did not tell him exactly how long he was out this time, but the coordination required to drink directly from a glass would be just a tad too much at the moment.

After he’s drank to his heart's content and Eggsy has taken his seat again, there is an awkward moment of silence between them, Eggsy’s relieved smile slowly being clouded by guilt. Harry knows at once what this expression is all about, that horrible fight where they both set out to rip each other to shreds, and if he regrets it dearly, he won’t have either of them feel guilty about it. Amends need to be made on both sides, but life is far too short for pointless resentment.

This time, Harry is the one reaching for Eggsy’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a soft kiss against the still-bruised knuckles without any shame. Eggsy gasps and blushes, starts stammering something, but Harry silences him with a look.

“I am sorry for what I said, dear boy, and I am sorry that they could well have been my last words to you. I might not know the details yet, but clearly, you didn’t need me to sort anything out.” He doesn’t try to hide the pride he feels, nor the affection, and Eggsy’s blush spreads to his throat and ears. “Not that I ever doubted it.”

The boy opens and closes his mouths a few times, Harry patiently waiting for him to speak. But the only thing that comes out is a broken-off sob and he barely registers his eyes watering before he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Eggsy.

“I thought you were dead,” the words are barely above a whisper, breathed against his throat, and Harry wraps his arms tighter around Eggsy at the pain he hears in his voice. “I thought you were dead and that the last thing I would have told you was that you were a freak.”

“Oh Eggsy…” Any other situation, he might have tried to joke to relieve the tension in his boy’s shoulders, say something along the lines that he was indeed kind of a freak, but he knows that this time, it won’t cut it. Instead he presses light kisses against his hair and rubs his hands up and down his back, not releasing Eggsy from his hold even after he has stopped crying.

They stay that way for a long time, so long Harry thinks that at one point they’ve both fallen asleep, until Eggsy finally pushes himself away from the embrace.

They look at each other, the silence between them now of the comfortable sort, and Eggsy smiles sheepishly.

Harry thinks he’s about to apologize, but it’s the complete opposite that he ends up saying. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t resist the temptation to gently cup his cheek in one hand, his breath catching in his chest when Eggsy turns the tiniest bit to press a kiss of his own against his palm.

“Eggsy, I…” he breaks himself off at Eggsy’s small shake of his head.

“Not now Harry,” he closes his eyes and leans into the contact, looking like a contented cat. “Get better and out of this bed, then we will talk about this, okay?”

Harry nods in agreement, because Eggsy is right of course. They need the time, both of them, and it’s not like they don’t already know. A few weeks won’t change anything.

***

It takes a month before Harry is released from the infirmary, partly because they don’t want to risk any unforeseeable relapse related to his head injury, but mostly because Harry is a less insufferable patient when he has Eggsy to keep him company most of the time. That he is being sent home two days after agent Galahad is sent on a mission in Argentina is no mere coincidence.

However, before he leaves for the comfort of his home, Harry makes a stop in the dining room back at the shop to meet with Merlin to discuss his future at Kingsman since his friend has also taken on Arthur’s responsibilities after V-Day.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you why you are here?”

It’s an unnecessary question and they both know it, but one that must be asked nonetheless.

“No, you don’t.”

Merlin nods before clicking on his tablet, looking for the appropriate files even if both men know he won’t be looking at them. They might have known each other to long for it to feel like one, it doesn’t change the fact this is supposed to be a formal meeting.

“Medical tells me you should be up for field mission after a month or two of physical therapy.” This doesn’t come as a surprise to Harry as he’s been told the same thing. “As you know, the title of Galahad has been given to Eggsy while we still thought you were dead, but we both know he would-”

“No,” Harry interrupts the other man, with more venom than what he knows is truly necessary, but he simply cannot help it. “I won’t have it, Merlin. Eggsy has earned his title as much as Miss Morton earned Lancelot’s.”

“Alright,” judging by Merlin’s smirk, he doesn’t seem to mind Harry’s small outburst in defense of the young man, his next words only confirming the impression. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Like I have the feeling you won’t accept another name.”

There is a long moment of silence between the two where they simply look at each other. It’s not uncomfortable, merely a moment to let Harry collects his thoughts, as if he’s not spent most of this last month doing just that.

“I-” he starts, stopping abruptly, the words harder to say than he had expected them to be. Merlin keeps on looking at him calmly and Harry cannot express how grateful he is to his friend that he doesn’t look at him with any sympathy, even though he must know what it is he is trying to say. “I am fine physically yes, but… But I don’t know when I’d be ready to go back in the field. It certainly won’t be in a couple of months. You don’t need me holding up a position that could go to someone else as qualified as I am.”

Now even less than ever. The global situation might have improved a bit, but the world is still on shaky grounds and they cannot afford to stay idle. Even Eggsy, who had been understandably reluctant to leave Harry’s side, had been sent on many local missions, until today when there had been no one else to send abroad.

Harry himself doesn’t intend to stay twiddling his thumbs until he is ready to go back in the field, something Merlin knows without having to ask.

“You have several possibilities,” he starts into what would have been a non-sequitur if both men were not so used to follow each other's line of thought after years of working together. “The cyber branch, for one, would still love to get their hands on you.”

“I’ve been saying no for twenty years,” he sighs in exasperation, “I thought they would have gotten the message by now.”

“They’re still having wet dreams about what you could do with training,” Merlin smirks at him and Harry shudders when he remembers the covetous expressions directed at him every time he’s had dealing with that particular branch of Kingsman.

“That’s the exact opposite of an incentive.”

“You’d make a pretty decent handler and the Knights already trust you, but-”

“The clean-up crews would threaten mutiny,” Harry finishes for Merlin, “ what with all the work I’d give them when I fail to stop the agents from blowing things up.” They all know that this part is maybe 30% of any handler’s work and Harry would never deny someone the satisfaction of causing an explosion.

“Quite right. There is always another option: Arthur. You could eventually return to the field when you’re ready and like that I wouldn’t have to break in anyone new since you already know the title is only a puppet position for Merlin.”

It is both right and wrong, of course. Arthur is indeed supposed to be at the very top of the agency, but no one would be foolish enough to send an agent anywhere without having Merlin’s green light to do so. This simple fact means that, at least internally, Merlin has had much more pull on any action taken by Kingsman in the last years. Arthur has a much more important role with other agencies and governments, because no matter in how much secrecy they dealt in, it would never be enough to keep entire anonymity.

The offer is surprising, even though Harry should have known his friend would do anything not to have to play the diplomat. Not that Harry has much more of a liking for it, but he does have a gift for diplomacy, when he can be bothered to use it.

He can’t see himself truly enjoying it, but he must say that the role is tempting. At least, then he would know that everything had truly been made to assure the most had been made to look out for Kingsman’s interest, not only as an organisation, but for the people who ran it. Not to mention it would be far more easier to bring on some of the changes he had despaired of ever seeing in his lifetime if he were to be at the head of the Table than if the role went to any other.

But he would not be Harry Hart if he didn’t tease Merlin a bit before accepting.

“I thought you would have enjoyed taking Bors down on his delusions of importance.”

“I would have killed him more likely,” Merlin has annoyance and frustration written all of his face just imagining it, “and like you pointed out, we do need ever-”

Harry is more than used to the way Merlin would sometimes cut himself off mid-way through a sentence to better listen to whatever it is that is being told to him via his glasses. He is actually surprised it took so long before they were interrupted, now that he’s officially running Kingsman too.

What worries him though, is the way Merlin’s face closes off and how his hands tighten into fist. What makes him panic is his friend’s next words.

“What do you mean you’ve lost Galahad!?”

Within a second, he is fiddling with his own glasses so he can hear everything Merlin is hearing too. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t have clearance yet, that has never stopped him before. He doesn’t care either that he had never wanted his friend to know he could hack into what should have been unhackable devices.

He only cares that something happened to Eggsy and there was no way he was waiting on Merlin to updated him on the situation when he could go directly to the source.

***

Harry doesn’t bother rising up from his slump on the floor when he hears his front door open. There’s only one other man with the key and if it isn’t Merlin, well even sober he doesn’t think he would put up much of a fight. What’s the point now?

It ends up being Merlin, the man letting himself fall on the living room floor with him and Harry doesn’t bother to ask him what happened after he finally left hours earlier. If Merlin had had any good news, Harry would have been the first to know.

He wordlessly passes the bottle of whatever alcohol he’s been drinking from after catching a glance of his friend’s expression. To anyone, he would look unaffected, maybe even cold, but after years of friendship, Harry knows that look for what it is. Anger, helplessness, _grief_.

All things Harry would feel himself, if not for all the alcohol he has imbibed in numbing his senses.

At first, he had not intended to do anything of the like when he had gotten home, but after hours and hours of worrying with no contact from Merlin, he had given up staying sober for sanity’s sake.

His friend takes a long swig before setting down the bottle and Harry is about to wrap an arm around his shoulder in comfort, like all the other times they’ve lost someone and Merlin had been forced to watch powerless. This time however, Merlin is quicker, drawing him close in a tight embrace, one hand pushing his head against the crook of his neck and Harry wonders why for a moment.

Then he finally feels the tears that must have been rolling down his cheeks uncontrollably, without his knowing, and a nervous sob shakes his body.

So much for the numbness.

***

Harry wakes up with the migraine from hell, only just now remembering the doctor’s advice to steer clear of any alcohol for the next few months. Well, it’s a bit too late now.

Fortunately, getting stinking drunk with Merlin means that not only his friend has dragged his sorry arse to bed, but that he left aspirin on the bedside table before passing out beside him. He sits up with difficulty, reaching for the bottle of pills gratefully.

His moving around causes Merlin to wake up in turns, groans of pain making it clear Harry is not the only one suffering from a hangover, so he passes the bottle before his friend can even ask for it.

They would probably have stayed in the bedroom for a long time, if not for sounds coming from the kitchen alerting them to the presence of an intruder in the house. As soon as the sounds register, instinct takes over and they are out of bed and silently making their way downstairs before they really realise it. Feeling physically and mentally miserable or not, they’ve always been one of the best teams out there. And if Harry wouldn’t have cared about what could happen to himself had he been alone, he sure doesn’t want any harm coming to Merlin.

They stop dead in their tracks once they reach the kitchen, not having been prepared for the sight that awaits them.

Eggsy, very much alive even if clearly favouring his left side, is standing in front of the fridge, looking through the contents for the ingredients to make a quick sandwich, if Harry is to hazard a guess. His hair is in disarray and he’s dressed in ill-fitted suit that is very obviously not Kingsman issued.

He must be exhausted because he doesn’t notice their presence until he turns toward them after having closed the fridge’s door and visibly startles at seeing them standing there, unmoving.

“Oh damn, really?” he’s looking at Merlin like a kicked puppy, seeming on the verge of tears and Harry can’t understand _why_ until he continues in a pleading tone, “Merlin, I know I should be debriefing first thing, but did you have to come all the way to drag me to HQ? I really just want to eat and pass out in a bed for like a day, I’ve not stopped since the explosion.”

Both Merlin and Harry flinch from the reminder but Eggsy mistakes their blank look for something else because he continues blabbering before they can say anything.

“Not caused by me by the way! Just saying that now. You could have told me about the rebels, it would have made my job easier, but no instead I had to trek through the forest for like a day before I could slip into a plane. And whatever shit I’ve said about bespoke bulletproof suits, damn but I feel naked without it! But I don’t think they would have let me board with a suit covered in blood and-”

While he was going on and on about what Harry really doesn’t care about right now, he’s stepped closer to his boy, still not really trusting his eyes and ears and all his senses not to be deceiving him.

“Eggsy…” It’s barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to cut him off in his tirade.

“Harry, I-” he finally seems to take a good look at the man standing in front of him and his tired expression quickly changed for a worried one. “Shit, you look like death warmed over, is it a migraine? Fuck I shouldn’t have come here, should have went to my mum, but I didn’t want to worry her with the bruises so I’ve been coming here and-” He stops again when Harry raises a hand to brushes lightly against his cheek.

“We thought you were dead.”

Eggsy eyes widens in surprise, but before he can say anything Harry presses his lips against his in a gentle kiss. He barely touches Eggsy’s cheek with his raised hand, but the one he circles around his boy’s waist is clenching tightly around a fistful of the ill-fitting jacket.

Eggsy’s arms comes up to wrap around his neck, the touch so light Harry would think he is hallucinating if it were not for his warmth.

Like this, with Eggsy moaning brokenly in the kiss, it’s easy to believe that his boy is well and truly alive, that it’s not a dream he’ll wake up from with only Merlin to console him. Not that he’s really thinking about any of it, not when he finally has Eggsy in his arms.

They are both breathless when they break the kiss, but neither can stand the distance and it’s quite naturally that they end up with their foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.

“Eggsy,” he doesn’t want to break to moment, but some things do need to be told, to hell with them both knowing them already, “I got better, I’m out of that bed… And I love you.”

Eggsy makes a sound, something between a unbelieving chuckle and a nervous sob, then whispers the words back to him before ducking his head in the crook of his neck. It takes him a moment to realise that the press of lips against his skin is not kisses but rather Eggsy mouthing the words ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ against his throat and his heart breaks at the reminder that if someone understand the despair he’s just lived through, it’s Eggsy. It makes his hold tighten around his boy as he starts whispering his own apologies against his hair.

How long they stay that way, drinking in each other's presence, Harry doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. He would probably have stayed that way for a year or two if Merlin hadn’t reminded them of his presence by walking up to them and enveloping them both into a hug that ended as quickly as it started.

There is a suspicious moisture in his eyes neither of them will mention and he seems reluctant to remove his hands from each of their shoulder, but he’s smiling.

“Galahad, you eat and then you rest. Arthur, you make sure he does exactly that. You can debrief him when he wakes up, but besides that I don’t want to see either of you at HQ for three days, am I clear?”

“Yes Merlin,” Harry dutifully answers for them both, Eggsy still looking at him with shock over his new title.

“Good, now I must go clean up the mess that you not being dead will have created,” he says with false exasperation, because they all know he’d rather deal with that than the loss of one more of his friend, before he leaves them to their embrace.

It’s a long while before they reluctantly let go of each other so that Eggsy can finally make himself that sandwich, but once he’s eaten, Harry leads him to the bedroom, ignoring Eggsy’s protest that he should clean the few dishes he used.

The dishes can wait.

Right now, there is a bed with their names written on it waiting for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt:
> 
> "Through a bureaucratic mix-up (I'll leave the details up to you), either Eggsy or Harry is told that the other one has been killed on a mission. Numb and grieving, they go home to what they now think is an empty house. (If Eggsy is the one grieving, I'd like to see Roxy go with him; if it's Harry, Merlin might join him). A few hours later, the other person comes home, completely unaware that everyone thinks they are dead. Cue a happy ending, lots of relieved hugs and kisses. Bonus points if there hasn't been any declaration of love yet, and now there is. Sort of a near-death confession kind of thing."
> 
> I can only hope you'll like it!


End file.
